"We can't till we've rested a bit," said Mavis, panting. "How did you manage to get that canvas cut?"
"My shell knife, of course," said the person in the wheelbarrow. "We always carry one in our hair, in case of sharks."
"I see," said Francis, breathing heavily.
"You had much better go on," said the barrow's occupant. "This chariot is excessively uncomfortable and much too small. Besides, delays are dangerous."
"We'll go in half a sec," said Francis, and Mavis added kindly:
"You're really quite safe now, you know."
"You aren't," said the Mermaid. "I don't know whether you realize that I'm stolen property and that it will be extremely awkward for you if you are caught with me."
"But we shan't be caught with you," said Mavis hopefully.
"Everybody's sound asleep," said Francis. It was wonderful how brave and confident they felt now that the deed was done. "It's perfectly safe— Oh, what's that! Oh!"
A hand had shot from the black shadow of the hedge and caught him by the arm.
"What is it, France? What is it?" said Mavis, who could not see what was happening.
"What is it—now what is it?" asked the Mermaid more crossly than she had yet spoken.
"Who is it? Oh, who is it?" gasped Francis, writhing in the grip of his invisible assailant. And from the dark shadow of the hedge came the simple and terrible reply:
"The police!"
50
